We watched the Patriots game with my parents yesterday—partially because it was my Dad’s birthday the day before so we were going to celebrate at half time but mainly because Matt DIALS IN to playoff football and I can really use some extra hands. We even busted out the ipads after a few month hiatus for some extra security. We did have to substitute Matt’s for Rocky’s, because the last time they used them (reason for the hiatus) it ended with Rocky losing his shit when the Youtube idiot didn’t open up the right plastic egg and me getting so frustrated with his frustration that I chucked it across the room as hard as I could and shattered the whole screen. And I mean SHATTTTTTTERED. It wasn’t a proud moment. When Matt got home I cried and told him that I suck. He nicely told me that everyone loses their shit sometimes but that he would prefer if I didn’t take my anger out on an apple product next time. I got it.
Anyway, the ipads held their attention for about thirty minutes and then my mom and I were in full drawing, city-building, StarWars-Mr.Potato-head-making hell for the remainder of the game. Just kidding, it was fine. GO PATZ.
At half time we sang, “Happy Birthday” and all of my kids coughed and breathed and blew all over an oreo icecream cake. I didn’t even cut Bizzy a piece because in my mind she is still like a week old so I often forget that she engages in activities like eating real food, but she quickly clued me in by screaming and pointing at her brother’s as they sat scarfing theirs down.
For a kid who can’t talk, you would think she would be pretty agreeable, right? Like, you can’t tell me to fuck off yet, so really you kind of just have to do what I want you to? And honestly, most of the time she kind of does. Accept when it comes to climbing on the furniture, grabbing all the food off the open shelving, and now, apparently, eating ice cream cake. First, she refused to sit in her seat. Her legs went into a full pike position and she stiff armed me until I gave up. No lap either. She wanted to sit ON the table. Not exactly great manners but bye, I’m tired.
The next part of this story is gunna seem like I am making it up, I will warn you. But my mom witnessed the whole thing, so she can vouch for me. Bizzy was having NONE of me feeding her the icecream cake, and refused to feed herself. At this age, these moments SUCK. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANTTTTT?! It turns into a very weird game of baby charades until you finally figure out what the hell they are trying to tell you. Well, after a little trial and error I finally figured it out. She wanted me to take a scoop of the icecream cake, and put it on her bare toes, and then she wanted to grab her foot like a spoon and eat the cake off her toes. SHE ATE AN ENTIRE BOWL OF CAKE TINY BITE BY TINY BITE OFF OF HER OWN WEIRD LITTLE TOES. What the actual planet am I even on anymore? Was she fucking with me? Is she in there like, “Oh, this fucking idiot lady, I actually got her to put little spoonfuls of ice cream on my toes for fifteen minutes.” Or is this just her--my only daughter, a complete weirdo with a now seemingly unavoidable future fetish for very strange shit.
Where do I even go from here? I don’t know. Actually, I do. I’m gunna go eat the cake that I saved for myself. And I’m gunna use a spoon.